


Day 12: Family Game Night

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Kissing, M/M, Riding, Sex Games, Yeah that's right, and a tie, louis in a suit, really tight trousers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: “Is that really what you want? For me to let you win?” No, it was not. What Harry wanted, wanted so badly he ached with it, was for Louis’ smirk to drop off his face with wonder at Harry’s cleverness. Harry wanted his luck to show up, that luck which had followed him faithfully into every single aspect of his life- his book being picked up by a publisher and then flying off the shelves, his heart finding its mate in Louis, his two (mostly) spectacularly well-behaved and sweet-natured children, his knack for discovering the perfect car and perfect home for exactly the right price- that giant pot of luck needed to arrive in its final destination: family game night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to my beta and to the amazing mods for all their hard work! 
> 
> Playlist:  
> [The Distance- Cake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cno20onK9dY)  
> [We Will Rock You- Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tJYN-eG1zk)  
> [Alright, Okay, You Win- Bette Midler](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAIUp14Smgo)

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/aY2yiLE)

“You have to win,” Izzy said, looping her arm through Harry’s own. “For both of us.”

Harry knew, of course, that the last (and only) card in his own stack was a six of clubs, unlikely to stand for long against the rest of deck which sat in front of Louis. Still, Harry smiled at her and nodded.

Then, making eye contact with Louis, he leaned down to press a kiss to Izzy’s temple and said, “Your dad wouldn’t defeat us. He knows how much we _hate_ to lose. He’s already won _every_ other game we’ve played tonight.”

Izzy nodded along with Harry. To Louis, she said, “You already had a turn to win. Sharing is caring.”

Louis smirked at Harry and tried to rearrange George on his lap. George wasn’t having it, though, squirming down (again) to cuddle with Zuko under the table.

“You first,” Louis said, the word rolling smoothly from his lips. He liked to pretend to win graciously.

The key word there was ‘pretend.’

Harry wanted to lean across the table and lick the smirk right off his face. And he would, later.

Instead, Harry placed his six of clubs onto the table with a soft thawp of plastic on wood. Then, eyes bright, mouth already twitching to hold back his self-satisfied smile, Louis flipped the top card on his stack.

Ten of hearts.

Game over.

Izzy smashed a fist on the table. “Not again.” Turning to Harry, she said, “We can’t go to bed yet. We have to play another game so that one of _us_ can win.”

“Not tonight, Bug,” Louis replied from underneath the table. He was hiding his glee at winning by tackling the problem of untangling their dog’s fur and toddler’s fists. Smart man.

Beside Harry, Izzy’s eyes filled with tears, but Harry wasn’t even a little bit tempted to give in. She’d missed her nap and it was already fifteen minutes past her supposed bedtime.

Also, he did have a rematch scheduled with her dad, just not the kind she could participate in.

“Bedtime for you,” Harry said, meeting her wet gaze. “We have a new story to read to Dad, don’t we?”

“Yes!” Izzy’s mood flickered from sad to thrilled in an instant. “Dad!” She scampered toward Louis and grabbed his sleeve. “We wrote and illustrated a story about _pirates_!”

****

When Harry returned to the table nearly an hour later, both kids tucked in bed with clean teeth and eyes shut, Louis was putting the deck of cards back into its box. His elbow brushed the stack of other games, Sorry! and Candyland and Hungry Hungry Hippos, and Harry rushed over to move them out of his way.

Louis’ light blue dress shirt was by now covered in wrinkles and Harry thought he could pick out a toddler-thumb-sized pizza stain at the bottom of Louis’ tie. The ensemble would be hell to set right, but Harry didn’t care.

He liked when Louis left his work clothes on late into the evening. With his cuffs rolled up as he washes dishes and his dress shoes clacking on the kitchen tiles, Louis reminded Harry of caged lion, gorgeous, powerful, and, just barely, tamed.

This also meant Harry was more likely to be the one to take these clothes off him, tug loose his tie and unbutton his each and every button.

“Well,” Louis said. “Since I won _every game_ , you’re meant to give me the best blow job I’ve ever had.”

“I did not agree to that.” Harry took the deck of cards out of Louis’ hands and set it on the table. He leaned toward Louis, almost but not quite brushing their lips together. He kept their faces close as he picked up the Sorry! box beside him.

“We’ll do a rematch with this one,” he told Louis, tipping back his chin.

“Okay.” Louis didn’t turn round to see which ‘one’ Harry was talking about. His eyes remained on Harry’s lips.

Harry stepped away and Louis exhaled, shaking his head.

“Can we play with me on your lap?” Louis asked, gaze finally locking on the game in question.

Harry shook his head. “You can sit beside me, though, if you promise to behave.” He indicated the corner of the table with a tilt of his head.

Louis raised a brow and then pulled out a chair where he sat, still and unsmiling, to watch as Harry set up the game. A month ago, Louis’ eyelashes would have brushed his cheeks, eyelids heavy with sleepiness- he would be very tired this late in the evening- but he instead he held his body alert, clearly anticipating the _game_ in store for them tonight.

Louis would have to wait a little longer for what he wanted. _Sorry!_

The cardboard box was old, its corners held together with yellowing sticky tape that Harry had applied as a teenager, and he handled it with care, smiling as he lifted out the faded deck of cards, several bent and fraying at the edges. He unfolded the board and then, licking his lips, turned it so that the blue side faced Louis and the green himself.

“Did you ask me if I wanted to be blue?”

Harry placed the four blue pawns in the starting circle in front of Louis. “You’re blue. You’re always blue.”

Louis hummed. His eyes had already gone dark, steadily tracking the small movements of Harry’s bum. Harry resisted the urge to wiggle it, but only briefly.

“I don’t remember this game involving dancing,” Louis said.

Harry thumped each green pawn into place and then snapped free the rubber band from around the cards. They didn’t shuffle well, their plastic coating long worn off, leaving them warped and a little sticky.

“I go first,” Harry told him, sitting as he lifted the card off the top of the deck and flipped it over. _Four._ Not a card he could use yet. Typical.

“You’re going to have to explain to me the rules.” Louis fiddled with one of his pawns. Harry slapped his hand away from it lightly and passed him the computer print out of the rules.

(The original rules sheet had disappeared before Harry hit puberty, and so Harry had to make a new copy when they’d first began dating, as he and Louis argued over the rules every single time they played.)

Louis tossed the paper and it floated gracefully back into the box. “No, I mean the _sexy_ rules.”

Harry licked his lips and widened his eyes. “You think there’s going to be something sexual about this game? I find that incredibly rude. You abandoned me in the Gumdrop Mountains in Candyland and defeated me soundly at War. You’ve left my pride bruised and I want the opportunity to kick. your. ass.”

“You can kiss my ass any time you like.” Louis smiled sweetly. “Like, right now.”

“Right now, you’re going to draw a card.” Then, he added, “I’ll tell you the extra rules as we go. Winning is the same. All four pawns from Start to Home.”

“Not fair.” Louis frowned and kicked at Harry’s socked foot under the table.

“Ouch.” Louis was still wearing his dress shoes and it hurt, a bit. Not that much, actually, but Harry added another, “Ouch!” for emphasis anyway.

Louis took his turn with a shake of his head. No movement on the board for him, either.

As Harry flipped his second card, Louis announced, “I’m tired.”

Harry released the card, another no good number, and folded his arms across his chest, looking down at Louis’ lap. Another thing he loved about Louis’ dress clothes: his trousers did a poor job at hiding erections.

“Really. Tired?” Harry’s eyes traced the outline of Louis’ cock, half hard against his thigh. The slight bulge of his head against the grey fabric was obscene. Louis wore these to his office, out to lunch with clients, in the fucking courtroom. “We can call it a night if you like. I’ve got some more writing to do and you can head on to bed.”

“Harry,” Louis groaned. “I’m _horny_.”

Harry smiled. “All the better for me to win.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with so we can get to the good stuff.”

“Me winning _is_ the good stuff.”

“Not what you’d be saying with my tongue up your ass.”

Harry stepped on his foot, not that it did much good, and flipped a card for him. A two. Just out the gate and he was already ahead. Fucking typical.

The game started slowly, each of them taking several more card flips to walk their pawns out from Start and onto the board.

On Harry’s sixth turn, Louis snaked his hand over and into his lap. Leaning close, so that his breath hit Harry’s ear, hot, he said, “I thought we were going to play _sexy_ games tonight. That’s what your text implied.”

Harry lifted his chin and continued counting out the spaces on the board. “Me winning is very sexy.” He settled his pawn into place and removed Louis’ hand from his lap.

Louis narrowed his eyes and turned the next card with a thwap. Then, smirking, he moved his piece, landing it squarely on the same space as one of Harry’s pawns.

“Sorry,” he said and knocked said green piece right back to Start.

Harry forced a pout and a glare.

Louis shrugged. “You chose the game.”

“I deserve a _much_ better apology than that,” Harry told him.

Louis’ mouth opened and then closed, his smile turning feline. “Oh, you do, do you?”

Harry stuck out his lip and nodded.

“God, you know George is picking up on that pout.”

Harry tried to fill his eyes with tears. He wasn’t nearly as good at it as the kids, no matter the implication of Louis’ last comment.

Louis leaned forward and pecked Harry’s cheek.

“That’s your apology kiss?”

Louis lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted to finish this game.”

“We will.”

Louis tilted his head and then shook it slightly before leaning in. He kept his lips a breath away from Harry’s for a long, trembling moment, and, with a small exhale, said, “Sorry.”

He brought their mouths together gently, touch soft, almost hesitant. The press of his stubble tickled, and Harry shivered, pulling away.

Louis chased him, though, kiss firmer now, hand reaching out to grab at Harry’s thigh. The pressure shot up Harry’s leg, sending a rush of blood straight to his groin.

With a stutter of breath, Harry pulled away further, scooting over in his chair. “That’s better.”

Louis was still for a moment, eyes heavy on Harry’s lips. Harry thought Louis might lean in again and didn’t know if he’d be able to pull away a third time. But the rules were the rules and it was family game night.

His voice a scratch, Louis said, “It’s your turn, love.”

Harry blinked and, flushing, returned his gaze to the board. He thought he’d have one up on Louis, thought he might, this one time, beat him. He planned to seduce him, keep him focused on his arousal, instead of the game.

He should have known better. Louis’ restless fidgeting and easy chatter were deceptive. He had more patience than anyone Harry ever met, especially when it came to sex.

Harry drew another card and moved his piece.

Play continued, but the air between them felt heavier, loaded with promise.

The first thing Louis whispered in Harry’s ear upon coming home that evening was how tired he’d felt. Harry was pushing a boulder up a hill, emotionally speaking, forcing Louis to stick out the remainder of game night now that the kids had gone to bed.

But, as Louis took another turn, just barely missing sending yet another of Harry’s pieces back to Start, passing it with a dark look in Harry’s direction, Harry knew that he was not too tired to finish _this_ game.

Minutes ticked by. Harry moved three of his pawns out onto the board to join Louis’ four which had already made it out and partway around to Home. With each flip of a card, their eyes met and their tongues darted out to rewet already slick lips.

Louis tasted like toothpaste and a hint of the beer he’d been drinking. Harry was hungry for a second go at him, but he couldn’t seem to draw a number that would allow him to offer to his own apology kiss.

Louis turned another card, a five. Harry watched Louis’ eyes dart from pawn to pawn, mentally counting out potential steps. The smartest path was obvious. Louis had the opportunity to move one of his pawns- one being pursued closely by Harry- home to safety.

Louis picked up a different pawn, one several squares behind Harry’s offending piece. Harry stiffened in anticipation. Louis wasn’t playing to win; he was playing to _win._

Louis didn’t bother with the verbal apology first, not this time. No, after knocking Harry’s piece over, he leaned in for the kiss like he’d won it off Harry, not the other way ‘round.

Because Harry considered himself a generous man, he allowed it, opening his mouth immediately to the possessive searching of Louis’ tongue. Louis’ hands found his thighs again, landing higher up this time, gripping hard straight away.

Harry felt himself sinking into the kiss, awash in the rough scrape of Louis’ stubble against his jaw, the pinch of Louis’ nails through his trousers, the tug of Louis’ teeth on his lip. He wanted more, _harder, closer._

Louis pulled away, lips shiny, eyelids heavy.

It was only years of practice that allowed Harry to make sense of the raw words, “Your turn.”

Harry hummed and reached out to clasp Louis’ elbow. “That’s not good enough this time.”

Louis raised a brow. He was close enough still that Harry could smell the mint on his breath.

Harry licked his lips with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue. “That’s the second of my pieces you’ve knocked back to Start. I’m going to need more than a kiss for an apology.”

Louis’ brow climbed higher. Then he murmured a rough, “Yeah?”

“Ye-ah.” He attempted to pull the word into two syllables and color his tone offended, but his voice broke, ruining the effect.

Louis’ mouth returned to his own, kissing him more roughly this time. But Harry couldn’t focus on the nearly bruising pressure of them because at that moment Louis’ hands slid up his thighs, thumbs resting in the crease, fingertips tantalizingly close to the sides of Harry’s hard cock.

They remained there, so close to where Harry wanted them, even as Louis’ mouth moved down over Harry’s jaw and neck. The hot-wet suction against the skin of Harry’s throat set him to shivering.

And still Louis’ hands stayed put.

Harry grunted. “Still not good enough.”

Louis blinked, pulling his head back. His hands tightened, though, and Harry’s heartbeat tripped.

Still, Louis did not move any closer to his cock.

“What do I owe you?”

“A better apology.” Harry closed his eyes.

“What would that look like?”

“Stop fucking around.” The vitriol in his own voice surprised Harry, but not so much as Louis’ response. Louis’ struck like lightening, groping him with both hands, covering the whole of Harry’s cock and squeezing tightly.

Harry hissed out a breath. “More.”

Louis rubbed him slowly through his trousers, the friction of it a barely-controlled burn. The long day caught up to Harry, suddenly, but in a satisfying way and he relaxed into the back of his chair. Louis could take care of him. That would be just fine.

Louis’ rhythm slowed, a firm, nearly painful drag of cotton against skin.

“You can’t come yet,” Louis told him, the softness of his voice a stark contrast to the roughness of his touch. “I still have a game to beat you at.”

“I thought,” Harry gasped. “I thought you didn’t even want to play.”

Harry hadn’t meant to say it. He had a whole slew of rules for them to follow and another game after this one, if Louis felt up to it. He hadn’t expected himself to be the one ready to end the teasing and move to the bedroom, figuratively speaking.

“I don’t want to play,” Louis said, touch suddenly still and light. He leaned in so that his breath was hot against the shell of Harry’s ear. “So much as I want to win.”

“Well.” Harry cleared his throat, opened his eyes, and straightened in his seat. “You haven’t even put one pawn Home yet.”

Louis gave Harry one last squeeze and then released him. “Not yet, no.”

After a long moment, Louis whispered, “Your turn.”

Harry blinked and inhaled, so desperate for the breath to calm him that it had the opposite effect. When he drew the top card of the deck, his hand shook.

He studied the board, trying to clear his mind to contemplate his possible moves. Louis’ victory was all but inevitable. With this turn, Harry could move one of his pawns out of Start- a difficult feat- or he could send one of Louis’ back with a ‘Sorry!’

He glanced from the board to Louis’ mouth, which twitched up. “I dare you.”

Harry didn’t step back from dares. Especially not ones suggested by his dear, _dear_ husband. He knocked Louis’ piece back to Start.

He leaned in for a quick peck and then sat back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. “Sorry.”

“You don’t seem very sorry.”

“Flip a card.” Harry replied. “I apologized.”

“Harry,” Louis said, voice slipping back into a soft rasp. Not fair. Louis never played fair.

Harry indulged him, of course, bringing their mouths together for a deeper kiss. Then, just as Harry considered breaking it, Louis slid his hands up Harry’s chest and into the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping them close.

Harry pulled to the side, nosing Louis’ cheek and then pressing a series of open mouthed kisses to his jaw. He didn’t want to play the game any more. He wanted Louis to give him the apology-fucking he deserved after three straight ass kickings. Louis should _be nice_.

However, he wasn’t about to let Louis cheat his way into another easy win by default.

So, lips marking wet circles on Louis’ throat, Harry said, “You’re a cheater. This is more than enough apology. For my first.”

Louis dropped his hands. “I’ve told you. I do not cheat.” His voice was breathy, but serious. More firmly, he added. “I don’t.”

“Sure,” Harry allowed. “Prove it then.”

Louis moved quickly out of Harry’s reach to flip another card. “It’s my turn.”

The game continued and so did Harry’s poor luck. He’d barely pulled all his pawns from Start again and only moved one anywhere near Home, when Louis’ knocked him back to Start a third time.

“Sorry,” Louis said, voice tinged with an expectant edge. Harry looked at the board. Another ten minutes of play and Louis would win.

“How sorry are you?”

Louis’ gaze sharpened on Harry’s face. “Very.”

“Show me,” Harry said.

Louis shifted his chair with a scrape of wood. “Come here.” He gestured for Harry to straddle him.

Harry hesitated, one last glance at the game to evaluate his chances of pulling out a win. Slim to none.

(Actually, just ‘none’, if he was being honest with himself.)

He pushed his chair back from the table, more carefully than Louis, and gestured for _Louis_ to straddle _him_. “You come here. You’re the one apologizing.”

Louis’ brows jumped, eyes widening to amused Os. Harry’s heart stuttered, but he stayed firm. “It’s only fair.”

Louis eyes shot down his own front. Harry spared a thought for his dress clothes, which, while well made, were not meant for sexual athletics. But no matter. Harry could have them mended. Or he could buy new ones.

“It’s the rules,” he added, eventually, because Louis still had not moved.

When Louis finally stood, his cock tented out his trousers, grey fabric nearly as taut in front as in back. Harry was a lucky man.

Louis placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together. “What, exactly, do your rules say about a _third_ apology?”

Louis used the voice Harry imagined he used in the courtroom, the voice that told his opponents that he was _not_ fucking around.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, and, with effort, released it. “You’re clearly not as sorry as you seemed,” he said. “If you were truly ‘sorry’ you wouldn’t have landed on my pawn _again._ ”

Louis brought their lips together but didn’t press in and the flesh of them tickled Harry’s own as he said, “I am sorry. I’ll do whatever. I’ll blow you. I’ll fuck you.”

Harry grated out, “That’d be a good start.”

Louis dropped to his knees, Harry’s hands already tugging down the waistband of his sweats. Louis stilled him. “Let me. I’m the one apologizing.”

Harry nodded. That _was_ the game, after all.

Louis’ movements were careful, gently guiding the fabric over Harry’s thighs, placing a kiss on each of Harry’s knees as he bared them. He uncurled his fingers from the sweats and re-curled them around Harry’s calves, leaning in to nose at Harry’s cock. His tie swung forward, silk brushing Harry’s balls.

Louis licked and stroked, each press of skin firm, but not quite firm enough, lingering, but not quite long enough. His touches did not build to a steady rhythm, but instead took the shape of a conversation. Louis loved Harry’s every crevice. He hungered for Harry’s every twitch. Though he knew Harry’s body as well as his own, he still enjoyed teasing and exploring. The adventure of it carried onward from youth into the future.

Louis’ hand dipped into the puddle of Harry’s sweats, coming up with the little tube of lube he’d tucked into his pocket. “You brought this out for a reason?”

He didn’t wait for Harry’s answer to squeeze a small mountain of it onto two fingers and then, eyes connected with Harry’s, put each of Harry’s legs over his shoulders, canting his hips up. A rush of cool air hit Harry’s hole and then the tip of Louis’ finger teased his entrance with a heavy press.

“Seems like you changed the rules of this game,” Louis murmured. “You knew you weren’t going to win. So you found a way to get me on my knees.”

The statement sent a shiver of frustration through Harry from the top of his head right to the ring of muscles where Louis’ finger rested, just barely inside him, still, yet poised to _push_.

“You never let me win.”

Louis leaned forward, mouth to Harry’s thigh. “I never let you win?” His voice rattled through Harry, tickling him from the inside out.

With a searching effort Harry found it in himself to reply, “No.”

Louis slipped a second finger into Harry. “Is that really what you want? For me to let you win?”

No, it was not. What Harry wanted, wanted so badly he ached with it, was for Louis’ smirk to drop off his face with wonder at Harry’s cleverness. Harry wanted his luck to show up, that luck which had followed him faithfully into every single aspect of his life- his book being picked up by a publisher and then flying off the shelves, his heart finding its mate in Louis, his two (mostly) spectacularly well-behaved and sweet-natured children, his knack for discovering the perfect car and perfect home for exactly the right price- that giant pot of luck needed to arrive in its final destination: family game night.

Louis twisted his fingers, pressing into Harry’s sweet spot with a soft smile.

“I’d do it.” Louis said, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on Harry’s forehead.

Harry blinked. He hadn’t answered Louis’ question aloud. He shook his head, clawing around for his words and coming up empty handed.

“I only want you to be happy. If that’s what would make you happy, I’d let you win every time.” Louis twisted his fingers a second time and Harry groaned.

“Want to ride you. Riding you would make me happy.” Harry managed to find these words and push them out. He had to or else he’d _really_ lose, coming on Louis’ fingers long before he even laid a glance on Louis’ own cock.

Louis inhaled sharply, drawing his fingers out in time with his breath. Harry winced and then smiled at his gracelessness. Not so unaffected, after all.

He watched patiently at Louis unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down the zip. Somewhere between coming home from work and putting the kids to bed, Louis had removed his pants. He’d taken off his pants, but kept his suit on, just for Harry, so now he was bare, cock standing out from his body as he reseated himself in his chair.

 

Harry stood, bum unsticking from the chair with a smack, and scrambled toward him. Louis placed his hands on Harry’s hips to still him.

“Let me,” he said.

Gently, Louis situated Harry on his lap, his hard cock pressed up against the back of Harry’s balls. Harry reached behind and between them, meaning to guide Louis inside, but Louis instead pressed their mouths together, a soft echo of the bruising kisses they’d shared earlier.

Harry’s insides melted and his hands found Louis’ shoulders, still clad in the smooth blue cotton of Louis’ shirt.

Louis pulled away. His hands, Harry realized, were at his throat, unknotting his tie. Harry made a noise of protest far in the back of his own throat. Why would Louis keep it on all evening, only to undo it now, when they’d just gotten to the good part?

“Want to see how it looks on you,” Louis explained as he looped and twisted the silk in a sloppier version of the knot he’d worn around Harry’s neck.

Harry swallowed, relishing the slight the pressure against his adam’s apple.

Louis smoothed a finger down the length of the tie. “Looks good. You always look good.”

Harry pressed down against him, Louis’ cock burning a line leading straight to Harry’s waiting entrance. “Can I?”

He pressed up with his knees, pushing their chests together and separating their groins just enough to guide Louis’ wet tip into him.

Louis nodded. “You can.”

Slowly, face pressed against the side of Louis’ head, Harry sank down.

“Fuck,” Louis cooed. “Yeah, fuck. That’s perfect. You feel so good. So tight. _God_ , you’re so tight.”

Harry began to rock up and down, motions deep and smooth and rhythmic. He closed his eyes and breathed in harsh pants that matched the even thrusts up and down and up and down.

“Harry, that’s it. Is it good for you?” Between them, Louis’ hands tug on the tie, leaving Harry to gasp for breath.

“You’re so hard,” Louis continued. “I got you. I got you.”

Louis’ fist picked up speed as it stroked Harry’s cock. Harry didn’t know when Louis had first taken hold of him. Must have been minutes before, but Harry’s focus had narrowed sharply to the sensation of Louis’ thickness inside of him, the push-pull of his thighs, and the beginning of an ache in his core.

“Harry,” Louis groaned, grip vice-tight as Harry began to spurt onto his stomach, orgasm catching him by surprise. Sure, it had been building for minutes, hours really, over heated looks and teasing exchanges. But the force of it overtook his body with a suddenness that had him pitching forward and clutching at Louis’ shoulders to steady himself.

Harry leaned in and opened his mouth against Louis’ cheek. “I won.” A lie, delivered brokenly. Louis knew it, too.

Louis canted his hips up and Harry’s arse fluttered around him, helplessly. “Yeah?” Louis arched again.

Harry sunk his teeth into Louis’ neck and began to ride him again, rough this time, hard and fast pumps of his muscles, cantering away like they were being chased by the devil.

Louis’ tie bounced against his chest and Louis clutched at it as his head fell back against the top of the chair.

“God, Harry, just like that.”

Harry kept his pace steady, eyes open but focused somewhere beyond the room, determined to bring Louis home.

Harry knew the moment Louis began to come, the high-pitched coo as familiar as the bite of Louis’ nails in his hip. He maintained his pace as Louis settled down from the high, rocking gently and trying to hold back his smile.

When Louis’ eyes opened, Harry felt a grin split across his face. He fucking _loved_ watching Louis come.

Louis grinned back. “I think _I_ won.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “No way.”

Louis nodded. “More stamina.”

Harry closed his mouth. He couldn’t argue with that. Still, “I demand a rematch. I can beat you in this. We both know it.”

Louis captured his lips in soft kiss. “Up for it anytime, love. Anytime.”


End file.
